EPH. Prythee, unriddle; hast thou drunk hemlock, Since I saw thee last? RIN. I would not be in my wits for anything I' th' world; my grief would kill me if I were. He's mad that will speak sense or reason, Now you have thrown away our prince thus: Whose innocence was clearer than his own eyes: Can you think how you have murder'd so much virtue, And not blush yourself to death? EPH. I think indeed I sent him general Against the Argives; but--'twas his own desire. RIN. 'Twas not his own desire, sir, to have But thirteen thousand men, sir, was it? Was that army fit to oppose great Argo? There came a messenger just now, that saw The prince not sixteen miles from hence (For thither is the foe marched) draw up his men T' engage the enemy. EPH. For heav'n's sake, Rinatus, post him back again, bid him retreat; Command my son from me Not to go on till greater forces follow him. If it be possible, redeem the error; I'd give my kingdom, life, or anything, It were to do again. RIN. I am glad to see this now; Heav'n send it be n't too late! EPH. Nay, stand not prating. [_A horn within._ RIN. 'Tis from the army, sir. O heaven, I fear! EPH. If from the army, prythee, put on better looks. _Enter_ MESSENGER. MES. Your son--nay more, your dying son-- Commanded me to bring you word, He died true to his honour, king, and countrymen; Nor let me stay to see the brightest lamp Go out, that ever grac'd this orb. [_The_ KING _faints_. RIN. O heaven, the king! why this is worse, sir, Than the other; let us not lose you both. EPH. Let me but hear how 'twas he made his exit, And then my glass is run: I will not live One minute longer.